


Calling Poppy

by onemechanicalalligator



Series: Brad & Poppy [2]
Category: Mythic Quest: Raven's Banquet (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Quarantine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24957286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onemechanicalalligator/pseuds/onemechanicalalligator
Summary: After Ian leaves, Poppy gets a couple of phone calls and makes an unexpected friend. Takes place during/after the Quarantine episode.
Relationships: Brad Bakshi & Poppy Li, David Brittlesbee & Poppy Li, Ian Grimm & Poppy Li
Series: Brad & Poppy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933696
Comments: 46
Kudos: 102





	1. Chapter 1

Ten minutes after Ian leaves, Poppy’s phone rings, and it’s David. It doesn’t make sense, because it’s nighttime and she’s not supposed to be working anymore. She answers the phone anyway, wondering if there’s some kind of emergency.

“Poppy! How’s it going?”

“Fine? I guess?” she replies, confused. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s great! It’s just fine! Don’t worry!”

“Why do you sound weird?” Poppy asks, and now she’s suspicious.

“I don’t sound weird! It’s all good!” 

“Everything you say sounds like it has an exclamation point on the end.”

“Oh. Sorry! I mean, sorry. I’m just happy to be talking to you. I’m cool.”

“You’re not cool. Why -- it hasn’t been that long since we last spoke. What’s going on, David?”

“Can’t a guy just call one of his favorite employees to say hi once in a while?”

That’s when Poppy realizes what’s going on here.

“Ian called you, didn’t he?” she says.

“Nope. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Ian definitely didn’t call me. I can promise you that!” 

Poppy sighs. 

“Ian texted you, didn’t he?” she asks, because of course Ian did, because it never occurred to her to tell him to keep it quiet.

“He was worried about you.”

Poppy is relieved to note that David is back to his normal voice, but she’s still overwhelmed with frustration at Ian.

“What did he tell you?” Poppy asks, her voice strained.

“Not much. That you could use a friend.”

It’s not as bad as she thought, then. Ian keeping things vague means she can hold on to at least a shred of her dignity.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay. Maybe I don’t have to murder Ian after all.”

“Pop, is there anything you want to talk about? I’m not a therapist, but I _do_ talk to Carol a lot…”

“No. It’s nice to chat, though. I appreciate the gesture.”

“Will you call me if you need to? If you need anything? I care about you, you know.”

“I know. Thank you, David. Thanks for being cool. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, Poppy!”

“Bye,” Poppy says, and hangs up the phone. 

She thinks she should hate Ian for talking to David, but it was actually a really nice phone call, and she guesses she can stand one other person knowing that she’s going through some shit.

* * *

Five minutes after they hang up, Poppy’s phone rings again, and it’s Brad, and, okay, so Ian must have told two people. She almost doesn’t answer, because it’s _Brad,_ but she’s so starved for human contact she can’t help herself.

“Pop-Tarts!” 

“Hi, Brad,” Poppy says, relieved that he, at least, sounds normal.

“How’s my favorite coder?”

“Cut the crap,” she says automatically, because she's not in the mood for insincerity, and she's maybe starting to regret answering the phone.

“Fine. What’s going on? You sound like shit.”

“Hey! What the fuck, Brad?” Okay, she's definitely regretting answering the phone.

“No, seriously, are you okay? You really do sound like shit. There’s no other way to say it.”

“I’m fine.”

“You haven’t turned your video on in a week. Why?”

Poppy is now fuming, and really irritated at Ian for spreading her business to Brad, of all people. This happens every fucking time she starts to trust him.

“My camera isn’t working,” she says.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not -- why did you even call me, Brad?”

“I thought you might want to talk.”

“Why would I talk to you?” she asks, thinking that this just keeps getting stranger.

“Because you’re lonely as hell and there’s no one else around for you to talk to and I took precious time out of my night to give you a call?”

“Fuck you,” she says blandly.

“Fuck _you._ But you know, if you promise to keep it between us, you really _can_ talk to me.”

“You want to _be my friend in secret?”_ she exclaims, and feels like this is a new low, even for Brad.

“No, Pop, I want to be here for you during a shitty time and I don’t want word getting out because I literally do not possess enough emotional energy to support anyone else. You’re my limit.”

“Oh,” she says. “I don’t understand.”

“Jesus Christ, don’t understand _what?”_

“Why you’re being so nice,” she says, and she hopes Brad doesn’t hear her voice catch just the tiniest bit. 

“Because this quarantine is kicking my ass, too, and if you tell another soul I said that I will destroy you, your career, and everyone you’ve ever spoken to.”

Both of them are silent.

“Oh," she says, finally.

She waits for Brad to say something else, and he doesn't.

"Um, thank you,” she whispers. “Look, I have to go.” 

As momentous as this conversation is, she refuses to cry in front of Brad right now, so she needs to get off the phone as quickly as possible.

“Just...call me anytime, or whatever," Brad says. "Or don’t. I actually really don’t care.” 

“Bye, Brad,” she says, and wonders if he can hear the small smile in her voice.

* * *

Poppy takes a bath and washes her hair. Then she picks up her phone again and calls Ian.

“Thanks,” she says when he answers.

“For what?”

“For texting David and Brad. They both called me. It was nice.”

“I only texted David,” Ian says. “Why the fuck would I text _Brad?”_


	2. Chapter 2

The next night, Brad is watching DuckTales in bed, which is what he’s been doing for the last three days or so, when the phone rings. He’s surprised to see it’s Poppy. He didn’t think she’d actually call.

“Hey, Pop!” he says, trying to sound normal and aloof and not like she’s the first person he’s spoken to since...well, since _her_ , last night.

“Hey,” she says, and she’s not sounding quite right either.

“I’m surprised you called,” he says, and doesn’t add that he’s also relieved.

“Me too,” she admits. “I wasn’t planning to.”

“What changed?” 

“I don’t know. I guess I was just lonely and I didn’t want Ian to feel like he had to come over here again.”

“Wait, Ian came over to your apartment?” he asks, surprised.

“Yeah. Last night. He walked over.”

“Is he aware we’re in a global fucking pandemic? That seems like something he should be aware of.” Brad’s not trying to sound like a dick. It’s kind of his default state, though, and comes out when he goes on autopilot, like when something surprises him. Like right now.

“I think his concern about me took precedence over his concern about the virus,” Poppy explains, and then Brad knows he made the right choice by calling her, that she’s in as much trouble as he is, just as he’d suspected.

“Why, because you stopped showering and shit?” he says, because he’s not sure he even knows how to be straightforward or empathetic.

“God, you’re such an asshole,” Poppy sighs, but there’s no malice in her voice.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” 

“Fine,” she says. “I took a bath last night though,” she adds under her breath, and Brad laughs.

“So Ian came to see you,” he muses. 

He’s not jealous. He’d rather continue on as he has been than see Ian, or anyone, really. Plus, he really _can’t_ see anyone, because his immune system is actually pretty fucked, which is part of what is making this whole thing so difficult.

“Yeah,” Poppy says. “And actually, I thought he had told you about it, and that’s why you called me. But he didn’t tell you. So...why _did_ you call me last night?” 

“I told you before,” Brad says, irritated. “Are you going to make me say it again?”

“Yeah, Brad. I think I am.”

He clears his throat loudly.

“Because this quarantine is kicking my ass, and if you tell another soul I said that I will destroy you, your career, and everyone you’ve ever spoken to,” he says, somewhat robotically, repeating exactly what he told her yesterday.

“What does that _mean,_ though?”

Brad has learned a lot of things about himself during the quarantine. He’s learned he’s pretty fucking good at baking bread. He’s learned running seventeen laps around his backyard equals a mile. He’s learned how to put all of his energy into one specific task after another so he can stay out of his own head, and it worked for a really long time, but after the charity bet with David he ran out of tasks, and that’s how he ended up in his current position.

“It means that just because I know how to take a goddamn shower every day doesn’t mean that everything is fine!” he snaps, and immediately regrets it. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

There are some things Brad hasn’t learned during the quarantine. He hasn’t learned how to cook, so he just gets all of his meals delivered. He hasn’t learned how to wear a mask without suffocating, so he doesn’t leave his house. He definitely hasn’t learned how to be vulnerable with another human being, and this conversation is the evidence of that.

“Are you okay, Brad?” Poppy asks gently. “You’ve, uh, never apologized to me before. Ever.”

“I don’t know,” he says flatly. “I don’t...I don’t have anyone. It’s just me, I’m alone, and I can’t…” The words are excruciating to get out. “I don’t know how to fucking do this, all right?”

“How to do what?” 

“How to...ask for help.” He says it so quietly he’s not sure at first if she even hears him.

He’s wondering if he should say it again, if he even _can_ say it again, when she finally responds.

“Is that why you really called me? To ask for help?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. But you weren’t supposed to, like...notice,” he mutters, and sighs. “I was supposed to be doing _you_ a favor. _You’re_ supposed to be the one who’s fucked up.”

“We can be fucked up together,” Poppy offers, and she sounds sincere.

“That might be good,” Brad says hesitantly.

“I know you don’t think too highly of me,” Poppy says. “But I won’t tell anyone about this. Just so you know.”

“I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t think highly of you, you fucking idiot,” Brad says, and Poppy laughs.

“So, how can I help right now?” she asks. “Do you want to talk some more? Or do you want to throw a movie up on Netflix and watch together?”

“Movie,” he says immediately, because his emotional energy supply is officially depleted.

“Cool,” Poppy says. “Get your computer and I can send you a link.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Brad replies. “I’m picking the movie.”


	3. Chapter 3

They start watching a Netflix movie together every day, and it gives Poppy something to look forward to, and she’s grateful for that. Brad chooses the movie every time, and even though she fights him on it, secretly she’s glad because there are too many options and it would be overwhelming to have to pick.

They keep the video call going while they watch, and it’s almost like hanging out in person. Poppy notices that Brad is unpredictable from one day to the next. Sometimes he’ll show up in a sweater and collared shirt, like he’s ready for a day at the office. Other times, he’ll be swimming in a giant t-shirt with some gaming logo on it, one he obviously got for free at a convention, and those are the same days she’ll notice his hair is a little messy and he has circles under his eyes. Those are the days Poppy worries about him a little.

She does the same thing, though, so she doesn’t really feel like she’s in a position to say anything. When she can, she dresses up and makes herself presentable, even if Brad is the only person she’ll be seeing that day. Other times, she can’t bring herself to change out of her pajamas, and Brad is the one who has to remind her to take a shower. 

“You look terrible,” Brad says one afternoon, and it’s obviously a bad day for both of them. Brad looks like he maybe hasn’t slept in a few days, and Poppy’s hair is a rat’s nest and she never got around to combing it, she was too busy doing nothing all day.

“So do you,” Poppy replies. “Want to watch the movie?”

“Yeah,” Brad says. “But let’s talk first.”

“Why?” Poppy asks, because this isn’t how they normally do it.

“Because you’re obviously not okay, and I’m obviously not okay, and we can only distract ourselves with movies for so long before something terrible happens.”

“Something terrible?” Poppy asks, and she’s starting to feel a little nervous.

“Okay, that might have been an exaggeration,” Brad admits. “But I feel like total shit and I’m sick of it. Aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Poppy replies. “I’m really sick of it, actually.”

“Tell me what you’re most afraid of,” Brad says. “About the quarantine.”

“Dying alone,” Poppy says, almost before he’s finished speaking. “What about you?”

“The same, actually,” Brad says, looking startled. “Why do you think you’ll die alone?”

“I guess it’s not dying alone as much as never being around another person again,” she says. “I know it’s silly, especially since Ian came and saw me that time, but...it just feels like this has been going on forever, you know?”

“Yeah,” Brad says. “I haven’t been anywhere in months. I’m afraid to leave my house. And I’m afraid I’ll never leave my house again.”

“Can you go on a walk or something?” Poppy asks. “Just for a change of scenery?”

Brad mumbles something that Poppy doesn’t catch.

“What was that?” she asks. “I think you cut out for a second.”

“I’m afraid,” Brad says quietly. “Of getting sick. I’m...vulnerable, or some bullshit.”

“Oh,” Poppy says, unsure of what else to say.

“That stays between us,” Brad adds.

“Of course,” Poppy says. “Are you, like, okay, though? I mean…”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal,” Brad says. “My immune system is just fucked up. Whatever. It’s just...everyone keeps talking about how it’s just the old people who are in danger, and no one else needs to worry, and that’s just not true, and it’s really fucking frustrating.”

“I’m sure,” Poppy says. “Jesus, I’m sorry, Brad.”

“Don’t be. Seriously, Pop, don’t be, I don’t want that. Forget I said anything.”

“I didn’t mean I  _ feel sorry for you,” _ Poppy clarifies. “This isn’t, like, pity. I’m acknowledging that it sucks for you. Don’t make it a bad thing. It’s what friends do.”

“Fuck, are we friends now?” Brad sounds alarmed, but more amused than angry.

“Definitely,” Poppy says, grinning.

“Don’t tell David,” Brad warns. “He’ll be jealous.”

“Oh, I’m definitely telling David,” Poppy says happily. “For  _ exactly _ that reason.”

“Fuck you, Poppy,” Brad says, but he’s clearly trying not to smile.

“Fuck you too, Brad. Are we watching a movie or what?”


	4. Chapter 4

**TEXT MESSAGE: BRAD B., POPPY L.**

3:38AM   
BRAD: Are you awake? 

3:39AM   
POPPY: Yeah, is everything okay? 

3:39AM   
BRAD: I know it's really late.

3:39AM   
POPPY: No, it's okay. What's up? 

3:40AM   
BRAD: … 

3:41AM   
BRAD: … 

3:42AM   
BRAD: … 

3:43AM   
POPPY: You've been typing for a really long time. 

3:43AM   
POPPY: What's going on? 

3:43AM   
BRAD: I don't know what to say. Nevermind. Don't worry about it. Go back to sleep. 

3:43AM   
POPPY: No, talk to me. Do you need me to call you?

3:44AM   
BRAD: No. 

3:44AM   
POPPY: Are you okay, Brad? 

3:47AM   
BRAD: No. 

3:47AM   
POPPY: Tell me what I can do to help. 

3:47AM   
POPPY: Talk to me. 

3:47AM   
POPPY: Please. 

3:48AM   
BRAD: … 

3:49AM   
POPPY: You're freaking me out, Brad. 

3:49AM   
POPPY: Please say something. 

3:50AM   
POPPY: Are you safe? 

3:51AM   
BRAD: … 

3:52AM   
BRAD: I think so. 

3:52AM   
POPPY: If I call you will you answer? 

3:52AM   
POPPY: Do you want to instant message on the computer instead? 

3:53AM   
POPPY: It's just that my thumbs aren't cut out for crisis management via text.

3:35AM   
POPPY: And the autocorrect in my phone is out of control. 

3:53AM   
BRAD: I guess you can call.

3:53AM   
POPPY: Cool, just a sec. 

* * *

Brad almost doesn’t answer the phone, even though he  _ told _ Poppy she should call. He holds the phone in his shaking hands and stares at it.

“Hello?” He cringes at how his voice sounds: hollow, tired, broken.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t answer,” says Poppy. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” he says. “You should just go back to bed. This is stupid.”

“It makes me nervous when you apologize,” she says. 

“Seriously, I should never have texted you,” he says frantically. “Is there any way we can just forget this ever happened? Go back to sleep.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” she says. “Will you just talk to me? What made you text me in the first place?”

“Why weren’t you asleep?”

“I was watching TV,” Poppy says.

“Why were you watching TV at 3:30 in the morning?” Brad asks, and wonders how long he can keep deflecting.

“I couldn’t sleep. And it was too quiet. Why are  _ you _ awake?”

He lets out his breath, only it sounds more like a shudder, and he’s positive Poppy can hear it.

“Brad,” she says softly. “What’s going on?”

“Can we switch back to texting?” he says, and his voice is wet and choked and disgusting because he is trying  _ so hard _ to keep it together, and it’s not working.

“Get on the computer,” Poppy says. “We can instant message. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Brad croaks, and hangs up the phone.

* * *

**INSTANT MESSAGE: BRAD BAKSHI, POPPY LI**

POPPY: You there?

BRAD: Yes.

POPPY: Please talk to me. Did something happen?

BRAD: Yes.

BRAD: …

BRAD: …

BRAD: …

BRAD: My dad died.

POPPY: Oh, my god. 

POPPY: I’m so sorry.

POPPY: Fuck.

POPPY: What do you need? What can I do?

BRAD: I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t know why I texted you in the middle of the night. I shouldn’t have bothered you.

BRAD: I just

BRAD: My mom had just called and told me. I wasn’t thinking right.

POPPY: Were you close?

BRAD: Not really. But not on bad terms or anything.

BRAD: This might come as a shock, but I’m not close to anybody.

POPPY: Was it...unexpected? Is that rude to ask?

BRAD: Yes.

BRAD: I mean, yes, it was unexpected. I don’t know or care if it’s rude to ask.

POPPY: I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.

BRAD: …

BRAD: My mom is alone now. She’s alone. I don’t have any siblings. And I can’t be with her, because I’m stuck in this house, because everyone’s stuck in their houses. And there won’t even be a funeral. Nothing. And she’s alone, and I’m alone. And he’s gone. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. This is a nightmare, Poppy, a literal nightmare and I don’t know what to do.

BRAD: FUCK

BRAD: I can’t

BRAD: I was already all fucked up. Before this even happened. And now

BRAD: I don’t know

BRAD: I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

POPPY: Brad. 

POPPY: It’s okay.

POPPY: I mean, it’s not okay, but you’re going to be okay. Are you breathing? Can you breathe?

BRAD: Kind of.

POPPY: Good. I want to video call you. You can cover or turn off the camera if you want, and you don’t have to talk, but I want you to be able to see me and hear me and know that I’m with you and you’re not alone. Is that okay?

BRAD: Yes.

POPPY: We can keep IMing. Or we can watch a movie. Or we can do both, or neither, or something else. 

BRAD: … 

BRAD: Both, I guess. Can you do me a favor?

POPPY: I won’t tell anyone, Brad. Promise. 

BRAD: You really should just go to sleep.

POPPY: I’m not going anywhere.


	5. Chapter 5

They watch movies all night. Brad keeps his video off but assures Poppy he can see her, knows she’s there, and she checks every so often just to be sure. They send instant messages relating to whatever movie they’re watching and nothing else, and they do this for hours, long after the sun has come up, and eventually Brad speaks out loud.

“This is the worst part,” he says, and his voice is thick and hoarse.

“What’s the worst part?” Poppy asks, concerned and unsure of what to do, if there’s even anything she  _ can _ do. She doesn’t feel equipped for this, but she’s determined to figure it out anyway.

“The sun comes up. It’s daytime. Now it’s real.”

“You know, it’s weird,” Poppy says. “I always thought of nighttime as being a scary time, probably because of nightmares and darkness and everything. But during this quarantine, more and more, daytime seems worse. Like, that’s when you can see things more clearly, but maybe you don’t want to see them.”

“Yeah,” Brad agrees. “It’s harder to hide in daylight.”

Poppy is quiet for a while, not knowing what to say next. Then she sees something flash on her computer screen, and realizes that Brad has finally turned his video on. 

His hair is messy, and his eyes are wide and red and watery behind thick black glasses, and she almost doesn’t recognize him for a second. This version of him is so inconsistent with the one she knows, so different from her confident, smirking, manipulative coworker.

“Hey,” she says quietly.

“Thank you,” Brad whispers, and blinks a few times.

“For what?”

“We’ve been talking for six hours, Pop.”

“Are you fucking serious?” she says.

“Yeah. It’s almost 10AM.”

“Good thing neither of us has anywhere else to be, huh?” she jokes, and offers a smile.

He looks like he’s trying to smile back, but it’s shaky and weird and ends up being more of a grimace. Poppy thinks that’s good enough for now, all things considered.

“This is a good distraction,” Brad says. 

“I’m glad,” Poppy replies. 

“I, uh, hate that you’re seeing me like this,” Brad adds, his voice clipped. He runs a hand through his hair, but it just makes it stick up more.

“You’ve seen me at my worst, though,” Poppy says. “You’re  _ currently _ seeing me at my worst,” she adds, touching her own hair, which is stringy and greasy, and thinking that she really needs to get better about showering. 

“Right, but I hate that  _ you’re  _ seeing  _ me _ like this,” Brad explains, and there is a ghost of a real grin on his face.

“Oh, please,” Poppy laughs. 

“I don’t want to lose myself,” Brad says. “I don’t want you to forget what an asshole I am.”

“Oh, I could never forget,” Poppy assures him. “Don’t worry.”

“I can’t be anything else.”

“I mean, you  _ can, _ though,” she says, and this feels good, this back-and-forth, it’s like talking to the real Brad again. 

“Okay, I don’t  _ want _ to be anything else,” Brad amends. 

“Brad, you just be whoever you want to be, okay?” Poppy says. “Nothing has to change if you don’t want it to.”

“I don’t know why I called you the first time, you know,” Brad says. “The time you thought Ian told me to. It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing.” He pauses and bites his lip before continuing. “But I’m glad I did. I don’t know who I would have texted at 3 in the morning if I hadn’t. Maybe no one. Probably no one.”

“I’m glad you did, too,” Poppy says. “You shouldn’t have to be alone.”

“This is weird for me,” Brad says. “I don’t really have friends, usually. I draw the line at coworkers.”

“That’s not surprising,” Poppy murmurs. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he says. “I do it on purpose.”

“Why?” Poppy asks.

“I don’t really know,” he admits. “It’s not some bullshit like I’ve been hurt before and I’m afraid to let anyone in. It’s just how I am. How I’ve always been.”

“It sounds kind of lonely.”

“It is,” Brad says. “But it honestly never bothered me until the quarantine. Like, it was okay not to have friends, because I was still interacting with people every day, and I love my job, and I’m fucking great at it. It didn’t really feel like anything was missing. But now all of that is gone and it’s just me, and it’s...it’s just me.”

“I know what you mean,” Poppy says. “Like, I don’t avoid having friends on purpose. I’m just...not great at making them. Probably because I spend so much time at work. And all of my old friends live in Australia, and I haven’t really kept in touch. Again, mostly because of work. It’s like I never learned how to have that balance, and now the side of the scale with everything on it is gone, and I’ve got nothing.”

“Not nothing,” Brad says. “You might not feel like you have friends, but Ian and David care about you.”

“I know,” she says. “I mean, I know  _ now. _ And you know they care about you, too.”

“Even if that’s true,” Brad says, “I would never have a conversation like this with them,”

“But you would with me.” Poppy says it almost like a question, one she doesn’t even know why she’s asking. 

“Like I said, I don’t know why,” Brad says. “But...you’re a really good friend, Poppy.”

“So are you,” she says. “But I promise not to tell anyone.”

“Oh, they’d never fucking believe you,” he says, and this time his smile is real.

The end.


End file.
